


Heartache By The Number Part 4

by TheThirdCharles



Series: Fallout: New Vegas- Heartache By The Number [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirdCharles/pseuds/TheThirdCharles
Summary: One formal invitation to a barn later and we've got ourselves a hoedown. Romanes eunt domus.





	

Cass and Courier walk into Freeside from the East entrance near Mick & Ralph’s, a general store specializing in questionable wares.

COURIER  
If we’re going to take on the Van Graffs, we’re not going to do this alone.

CASS  
No shit? I mean, I lost my gun in that explosion and they’re a damn army. Odds seem in our favor. 

COURIER  
Cute. But vengeance doesn’t call for cute. It calls for lots and lots of guns. 

CASS  
And what’s this place? A little general store?

Three ORPHANS walk out of the store carrying tire irons and knives.

COURIER  
Not exactly.

CASS  
What the hell is that?

COURIER  
A hunting party of orphans. You really don’t know Freeside, do you?

They walk into the store to find MICK, RALPH, and another ORPHAN. Mick has short, greased back hair with a short goatee and wears a gray and blue pre-war ensemble of casual clothing and has a shotgun slung over his back, leaning down to give instructions to the Orphan. Ralph wears red and black clothes of a similar style, sitting near the entrance and watching out for customers or Kings. The Orphan wears a standard, beige wasteland getup, looking up to listen to Ralph. The store interior is pretty cluttered, with desks, shelves, and old, broken washing machines being used as tables covered in the typical wasteland junk you’d expect to find.

MICK  
Alright, kid. You’ve been good so far, but before you get paid, I’ve got one more  
errand for you to run. See, Santiago hasn’t paid up in two weeks for what we sold  
him. I’m going to need you to take the bat and teach him what happens to deadbea-

RALPH  
Mick, customers!

Mick’s stature and voice becomes less like a boss and more like a father.

MICK  
Just give Santiago a big ol’ hug, just like we taught you. Can you do that, pal?

ORPHAN  
You got it, boss!

Orphan runs excitedly past Courier and Cass, grabbing a baseball bat with nails hammered through it on his way out.

CASS  
What’s with the bat?

ORPHAN  
It’s my hugging stick.

Mick smirks proudly as Cass and Courier approach him. 

MICK  
Welcome to Mick and Ralph’s. What do you- Courier! Good to see you again!

COURIER  
Good to see you too, Mick. 

Ralph, a bit embarrassed, lowly talks to Courier.

RALPH  
How’d that... programming I gave you for the Garrett twins? For the... fun-bot.

COURIER  
I’m not keen on finding out firsthand, but judging by James’  
walking funny recently, I can wager it runs like a dream.

Ralph smirks proudly, leaning back in his chair, grabbing a glass bottle of soda to drink. Courier begins his sales pitch.

RALPH  
So, what do you need?

COURIER  
Here’s the thing. It’s not all about what we need. It’s what you need too.

RALPH  
So, you’ll be asking for a lot.

Courier talks casually, trying to dance around the point. Cass is visibly frustrated and standing behind him.

COURIER  
Hear me out. This isn’t going to be an easy job my associate and I have planned, but we’re-

Cass shoves him aside and bluntly says their goal.

CASS  
We’re going to wipe out the Van Graffs.

Mick starts laughing, taking it for a joke. Ralph chokes on his soda. Cass has folded her arms and Courier leans on the center table.

MICK  
The fuck is she drinking?

CASS  
Generally speaking, whiskey.

MICK  
I call bull. Whiskey doesn’t want to make me charge into a head  
on fight against the closest thing Freeside has to a private army.

COURIER  
Well, ideally, we won’t be charging in. We came here to toy around some ideas,  
maybe see if we can find one that doesn’t end up with Cass here and I as piles of goo.

Mick walks over to the far left corner of the room, annoyed at Cass’ doubt and presses a button just above a shelf on the wall. Cass talks skeptically.

MICK  
Look, you’ve been a good customer, and a buddy, and all that, but bottom line, this doesn’t   
look like a fight you’ll be winning, and what’ll happen when they find out who sold you   
your guns? Orphans may be vicious, but they have minimal value as human shields. 

CASS  
Do you even sell guns? I’ve been looking all around this shop and so far  
I’m not seeing any firepower on scale with what we’ve been discussing.

The wall slides up to reveal a small hidden room stockpiled with high end firearms. Cass is speechless. Courier has seen this all before and keeps talking.

CASS  
Holy fuck.

MICK  
We’ve got them, but it looks like it’s going to be  
a one way trip any which way you two charge in.

COURIER  
But not if we play it smart and come up with a plan.

RALPH  
I’m guessing you have something in mind?

Courier looks to Ralph, explaining his list and the gist of his plan. Mick and Ralph stay calm, if not perplexed at all this.

COURIER  
I’m going to need some classy looking letterhead and some prewar formalwear.   
The way I see it, we trick them into a meeting under the pretense we’re some big-shot  
client looking to equip a team to bust open a vault for some prewar tech or something.

RALPH  
All well and good, but you can’t hope to shoot all of them.

COURIER  
That’s why I need some of Mick’s form of help.

MICK  
Orphan army? ‘Cause they’re handy with their bats, but-

COURIER  
C4.

Mick puts his hand on his forehead, the thought of all this making him nervous.

MICK  
Holy shit, buddy! You’re getting into the thousands   
here, and I still have yet to see any benefit from this.

COURIER  
Cass?

Cass meets Mick’s eye line close-up, angrily ranting at him, index finger pointed at his chest.

CASS  
First of all, I’d like to say, orphan army? The fuck, man? You are some   
of the worst fuckers I’ve seen in this town, but much as that pisses me   
the fuck off, that doesn’t hold a candle to the shit the Van Graffs have done. 

Cass turns away, giving Mick some space to breathe. Mick and Ralph listen intently.

CASS  
Unfortunately for you though, they’re also the worst of the worst in this town and as you’ll  
find, have violently forced you out of energy weapons. It’d take a miracle to knock those   
bastards out. Like some band of crazier, tougher bastards take them out from out of nowhere. 

Courier joins her pitch. Mick and Ralph are enthralled by the prospect of that kind of money.

CASS  
That little store they’ve got going with all of those pretty weapons is going to be practically  
unguarded to the point just about anyone can break in and take what they need.

COURIER  
I’d say if some opportunistic bastards and their buddies were fast enough, they’d   
have a chance to claim that monopoly of energy weapons all for themselves. Even   
more so if Gloria and Jean were blown up so bad, they’d be mistaken for their own marks.

Mick motions to Ralph, who nods, digging through his desk. Mick also starts leading Courier and Cass towards the weapons room.

MICK  
Ralph, get working on that letter, and brief the boys   
when you get a chance. You two, come with me.

They all stand before the weapons room, Mick proud, Courier and Cass looking like kids in a candy store.

MICK  
Now, I’m wondering how much more you two gonna need to knock them out for good.

COURIER  
Well, we’ve got a nice revolver. And about two loads worth of .44 magnum.

MICK  
How about you?

CASS  
... feminine wiles?

Mick has handed Courier a black metal, brown wood bodied lever action rifle, referred to as the trail carbine.

MICK  
Goddamn it! You’re lucky I could use those laser guns. Alright, Courier.   
For you, I’ve got a trail carbine. Also chambered for .44 magnum, fast   
lever, accurate shot, and I don’t need to tell you what one of those   
bullets’ll do to a man. Now, missy, what are you in the market for?

Cass has fallen in love with a weapon, not yet shown, putting her hand on Mick’s shoulder, as he also pauses to admire it.

CASS  
Sweet Jesus, what is that?

A pristine, jet black, compact M4 assault rifle is angled diagonally in the center of the wall, with several extended ammunition clips displayed beneath it.

MICK  
That is a vintage pre-war AR-15 assault carbine, complete with a customized   
receiver, bolt, and extended magazines dispensing death, by firing military-  
grade armor piercing five-millimeter rounds at over a thousand rounds per minute. 

Mick is annoyed at Cass slowly reaching for the assault carbine. He smacks down her hand, as if she were a child reaching for a cookie jar.

MICK  
And I’m not wagering her for any kind of bullshit  
laser gun, so you can take your eyes off her.

Cass rubs her hand, embarrassed at momentarily losing her composure, and bitter at Mick.

CASS  
Alright, alright. Jackass. What have you got for me?

MICK  
Well, what do you like?

Mick hands her a sawed-off shotgun, which Cass begrudgingly accepts.

CASS  
I like my enemy to be wondering where his head went   
and how that convenient stump came to replace it.

MICK  
Sawed-off it is. 

Courier works the lever on his carbine, beginning to load it. Mick checks a lower shelf for some less valuable items.

COURIER  
Can’t we get a little extra, in case the two aren’t enough?

MICK  
Those two are top of the line and C4 costs a pretty   
penny, but I guess I can throw in a few clearance goodies. 

Courier and Cass gather around Mick, who hands each of them a frag grenade.

COURIER  
I take it you’ve got frag grenades?

MICK  
Oh, most definitely. Irregularly timed frag grenades.

Cass looks at it, perplexed. Courier is a bit curious, but tucks away the grenade. Mick smiles, chuckling to himself.

CASS  
How irregularly?

MICK  
You know how you’d count to three before throwing a standard grenade?   
Well these aren’t like that. Throw ‘em after counting to one or after   
counting to a thousand. Don’t really know, myself, but even if you   
explode in the process, it’s sure to confuse the hell out of your enemies.

Mick hands Cass a hatchet, who accepts it dexterously.

MICK  
This, on the other hand? Pretty self-explanatory.

CASS  
Much obliged.

Cass and Courier scrounge for ammo, when Cass looks up. Mick calls to her, hands placed as if thinking the plan through.

MICK  
You two can help yourselves to some ammo. Check the green box   
and put whatever you need in a duffle bag. Two C4 bricks only, bottom   
shelf, same as the detonator. Second thought, you come with me.

CASS  
What for?

MICK  
Business dress.

Cass is uncomfortable with this, and Mick is enjoying making her squirm for a change.

CASS  
Why am I the one dressing up?

MICK  
We don’t have a suit and I’m thinking Courier’s legs’ll give it away. 

Mick finds a black hat with sewn on veil on a shelf, handing it to a pissed off Cass.

CASS  
They’ll recognize me, you know.

MICK  
Black veil. For your average shady transaction. Courier plants  
the explosives while you’re distracting them with business talk.

Cass really doesn’t want to do this, but Mick and Ralph smirk, playing the plan by ear.

CASS  
And if I’m found out and they fucking start shooting me?

RALPH  
We didn’t say we didn’t think of that, now did we? Now just try this on.

Courier and Cass are back drinking at the Atomic Wrangler, with a similar crowd as before. Francine and James are still manning the counter. 

CASS  
So that’s all well and good, eh?

COURIER  
What’re you thinking about?

CASS  
We’re going to die, aren’t we?

COURIER  
No, we’re going to get Mick and Ralph to get the message to the Van Graffs   
and then we set up the ambush and once they show up, spring it and that’s that.

Cass takes a drink as Courier swishes his glass.

CASS  
No fucking way I’m backing out here, but what if, say, they spot   
you putting out the C4? Or it doesn’t take them all out? Goddamn it,   
we can take out a bunch them, but to essentially take out a platoon...  
It’s not exactly like it’s a mission to be on. It’s just us, isn’t it? 

COURIER  
Like we can get help? Well, there’s those caps McLafferty paid us, but I   
doubt anyone’s forming a posse against combat armor and plasma weapons.

Courier and Cass turn to see who boomed back to them.

CASS  
What kind of fuck-head is going to sign on for some caps  
and glory in return for being treated as a meat shield?

BIG BEARD  
Did someone say glory?

BIG BEARD and LITTLE BEARD sit at a table further away from the counter, drinking beers. Big Beard, as the name implies, has a spectacularly large beard halfway down his chest. He wears sunglasses and wears a gray bandana atop his head. He wears a leather vest and gloves, and has a PROSTITUTE under each arm. Little Beard also has a large beard, but it pales in comparison to Big Beard’s. He wears a similar leather vest, and has a short, almost completely shaved hairstyle. 

BIG BEARD  
If so, my subordinate and I are in.

COURIER  
And you are...?

The Prostitutes leave, as Big Beard shoos them away. Courier and Cass walk up to their table, surprised at this turn of events.

BIG BEARD  
Big beard, adversary of my enemies. And I am up to the task.

CASS  
You and your buddy are signing up just like that?

Big Beard waves his arms, boasting. Cass leans in, pleasantly surprised at their willingness to join. Courier is skeptical, and Little Beard is depressed, drowning his sorrow with beer.

BIG BEARD  
You had me at “glory”.

CASS  
Fuckin’ a. I’m just glad we didn’t lose you at meat shield.

BIG BEARD  
Please. For them to hit me, they’d have to shoot through  
the densest foot of beard they’d ever beheld.

LITTLE BEARD  
Or go for the legs. 

BIG BEARD  
That’s enough out of you.

Courier looks to Little Beard in incredulity that he’d follow this idiot. Big Beard proudly booms back an answer.

COURIER  
Are you even with him?

LITTLE BEARD  
Yeah.

COURIER  
You got a name?

LITTLE BEARD  
Little Beard. And Big Beard makes the calls. That’s how we do things.

Courier raises an eyebrow at the two. Big Beard shows no signs of backing down. 

COURIER  
You’re sure about this?

BIG BEARD  
Yes, we’re sure. And don’t you take that tone with me, you smooth  
chinned child. Now who are we up against? Powder Gangers, raider band?

COURIER  
The Van Graffs.

Big Beard’s eyes get wide, as he gets nervous and begins to panic. Cass’ face turns into an expression of self-satisfaction. Little Beard, panicked, takes another drink.

BIG BEARD  
Now, hold on, my friend. We’re not about to go and charge in, are we?

CASS  
I didn’t think you’d be bitching out after a show like that.

Courier nudges Cass’ arm. Cass reaches into her pocket, her expression turning silently enraged. Big Beard has regained some confidence, thinking he’s turned the tables. 

BIG BEARD  
It’s not that we don’t want to help, miss, but have you seen what those   
Van Graffs do to people? The way I see it, anyone looking to gain   
a reputation with them could go running down the street to warn them, maybe   
even get a reward in the process. Unless you’d pay them more not to do otherwise.

COURIER  
That’d be blackmail.

BIG BEARD  
It’d also be easy caps.

Cass puts an irregularly timed frag grenade in Big Beard’s namesake, finger on the pin. Little Beard starts to get up and move away. Courier sits back in his chair, arms crossed.

BIG BEARD  
Oh god.

CASS  
I don’t think you get this. It isn’t.

LITTLE BEARD  
Shit!

Courier motions for Little Beard to sit down. Big Beard panics, but Little Beard nervously sits back down. Cass and Courier remain intense and calm.

COURIER  
Ub-ub-ub. Don’t go getting up so quickly. You wouldn’t outrun it.

BIG BEARD  
You’d die too!

COURIER  
We’d die if the Van Graffs knew we were coming for them.

CASS moves in closer, talking in an intimidating fashion to a terrified Big Beard and Little Beard.

CASS  
Alright, whiskers and peach fuzz, as far as I’m concerned, the two of you  
just volunteered to help. You watch our backs, plant some bombs, and if the   
shit hits the fan, you fight for your lives. You’re gonna need to swear to this.

BIG BEARD  
And if we refuse?

CASS  
We all go up right here and now.

Big Beard reluctantly swears. Little Beard face-palms. Cass puts the grenade away, smiling that this plan worked, and Courier brings out a map, explaining to them the location of the ambush.

BIG BEARD  
...Fine. I swear on my follicles, we will aid you in the battle.

COURIER  
You boys gather your supplies and follow us out past the   
abandoned farmstead west of Freeside. We’ll be sending out a   
messenger to the Van Graffs soon, so you’d best be ready.

Cass smiles charmingly.

LITTLE BEARD  
I only hope you’ll be shoving fewer grenades in our faces when we’re fighting.

CASS  
Hey, it was just the one.

The four of them leave the Wrangler, with an ORPHAN standing across the street. The Orphan holds up an official-looking envelope.

CASS  
There’s the runner.

LITTLE BEARD  
That kid? God damn. Here I’d hoped you were at least the good guys.

CASS  
Do I need to remind you of all the people the Van Graffs dusted? One problem at a time.

Courier gives the Orphan a bag of caps, and the Orphan’s face lights up.

COURIER  
You’re sure you’re up for this?

ORPHAN  
You know it, mister!

COURIER  
You know what to do. Be careful, alright?

ORPHAN  
Don’t worry about it.

The four of them keep walking towards Freeside’s exit. The Orphan runs in the direction of the Silver Rush.

CASS  
Kinda ironic, isn’t it? I mean, you’re a courier, aren’t you?

COURIER  
Oh, shut it.

Orphan runs to the Silver Rush, with the VAN GRAFF GUARD standing outside with his plasma rifle. He spots Orphan.

ORPHAN  
Hey, mister! I’ve got business for the Van Graffs!

VAN GRAFF GUARD  
Damn it, kid, get out of here! Street rats like you give potential customers a bad vibe.

ORPHAN  
But I’ve got business for the Van Graffs! Letter from a client!

Orphan runs into Van Graff Guard, who takes the letter from him, examining it.

VAN GRAFF GUARD  
Well give it here, kid. 

ORPHAN  
What? No tip? 

VAN GRAFF GUARD  
Scram, punk.

Orphan runs away as Gloria and Jean open the door, coming to see what all the noise is. They’re more curious than angry.

GLORIA  
What’s with all the noise?

VAN GRAFF GUARD  
My apologies, ma’am. A delivery boy just dropped this off.

JEAN  
Well, I’d suppose it’d be about the time for NCR’s contracts to start rolling in.

Gloria reads the letter.

GLORIA  
My simple brother, you know Alice is dead, and no respectable business is going to set up a meeting   
for a place like that. And I see? I’m right. Some eccentric with too much coin and not   
enough better judgment is taking a crack at Vault 34 and needs some of our wares to do it.

Gloria goes back inside of the store, where she faces seven VAN GRAFF SOLDIERS, standing at attention throughout the store. Jean stands slightly behind her. 

GLORIA  
Alright, men. Gather up the cache and prepare for a short   
trip west. Keep on guard and be ready to move at dawn. 

JEAN  
The client’s a shady little bitch, so stay on your toes. It’s what we pay you for.

Van Graff Guard still stands outside at his post, muttering to himself, checking his pockets.

VAN GRAFF GUARD  
Speaking of, where the hell’d my pay go?

Orphan runs away from the shop, eyeing the bag of caps he just stole from Van Graff Guard. He’s smiling, giddy at all of the money, and doesn’t notice the shadowy figure with a machete in the dark alley ahead of him. PRIME DECANUS grabs Orphan, machete drawn. Orphan just notices him, and turns in fear.

PRIME DECANUS  
Quite the haul, whelp. But it shall do you no good if your throat is slit.

Prime Decanus pulls the Orphan in closer and puts the machete to his throat.

ORPHAN  
Jesus, lemme go!

PRIME DECANUS  
Tell me about that letter of yours, and you might live to plead another day.

ORPHAN  
It was sealed, but the Van Graffs are probably   
gonna head out to meet whoever wrote that soon!

Cass is dressed in the business dress that Mick and Ralph provided. She stands on the second floor of a dilapidated farmhouse, the walls half splintered away. She looks out of the massive segment of missing wall to the direction of Freeside.

CASS  
Tomorrow it’s all over.

COURIER  
For us or them?

Courier walks towards her, trail carbine in hand, duffle bag under the opposite arm. He startled her.

COURIER  
‘Cause I hope you’re not still entertaining the notion that we’re dyin’ here.

CASS  
Hell, no, but a gal can wonder, can’t she? If we get blown up in the  
process, if there’s gonna be any sort of retribution from the Van Graffs  
back West, how bad what happened to McLafferty is gonna hurt the   
republic, hell, if there’s any peace of mind to be found in what we’re doing.

Courier keeps walking towards her. Cass is still on edge, thinking about what Courier said.

COURIER  
If they come for us, we’ll be sure to drop hundreds, and I’d suppose that’s   
dealing with how you feel about NCR. It’s up to you to make it up to them. 

CASS  
Yeah...

Courier leans on the planks of the wall.

COURIER  
As for peace of mind, that’s for you to figure out, Rose of Sharon   
Cassidy. You’re the one walking this path, and even if you aren’t positive  
some wasteland justice is going to help all that pain, it’s your call to make.

Courier and Cass are silent a moment, smiling at each other, finding some of that peace Cass was hoping for. Courier moves to join her at the impromptu window, holding her hand.

CASS  
Thanks, but there’s still one thing you didn’t address.   
About us getting blown up in the process.

COURIER  
Seeing as how I put the Beards on C4 duty with a half page of instructions  
written in Mick’s shorthand, I’d say that concern is pretty valid right now.

CASS  
Good luck out there tomorrow.

Courier opens up the duffle bag. Cass keeps leaning on the improvised windowsill.

COURIER  
You too. You know what? I think I’ve got something for you a little better than luck.

CASS  
Really now?

The next morning, Courier, trail carbine held upwards between his legs, sits on the tattered staircase with Big Beard, grasping a sledgehammer. Little Beard looks out the side of the barn with binoculars at the road, a 10mm submachine gun clipped to his belt. Gloria, Jean, and seven VAN GRAFF SOLDIERS move down the road, as seen through the binoculars.

LITTLE BEARD  
Contact.

Courier runs up the stairs. Big Beard and Little Beard crouch, taking cover by the most sturdy looking segments of the barn’s walls, five feet away from a hole large enough for them to crouch through. 

BIG BEARD  
We’ve got company, Miss Cassidy.

Cass stands fifteen feet away from the farmhouse, facing east to where the Van Graffs will arrive from. She wears her business dress, black gloves, and black hat, with thick black veil covering her face down to her lips, adorned in red lipstick.

CASS  
Gloria Van Graff?

The Van Graffs arrive. Gloria smiles, confidently. Behind her, Jean stands looking bored with a plasma cutter, including its large, metal pack on his back, with all manners of futuristic knobs and batteries on it. He holds the large barrel of the weapon as one would hold the barrel of a flamethrower. Seven Van Graff Soldiers join them, each with a laser or plasma rifle.

GLORIA  
So, Ma’am, you’re looking to buy from the best?

Big Beard and Little Beard sneak out of the barn through the aforementioned hole and begin to sneak behind the Van Graffs. Courier can be seen in the shadows of the top of the barn, trail carbine drawn down on the Van Graffs, Still undetected.

CASS  
It’d appear so.

GLORIA  
It’s a daunting task, vault raiding; number 34 in particular, I hear. The radiation alone is enough   
to kill most parties entering it. Add on to it the ghouls sighted around its entrance, and   
the fact no one’s gotten far enough into it to take so much as a carton of cigarettes. 

There’s an angled, wide bird’s eye view to show that behind Cass is a trench just deep enough for her to dive behind, and across the way, behind the Van Graffs, there’s a similar trench on the side opposite the barn. Big Beard slides into the trench, with Little Beard right behind him, giving the thumbs up to Cass after planting the explosives. Little Beard mutters to himself, unheard by anyone.

CASS  
That’s why I’m buying Van Graff. I’d say you have a reputation   
for leaving those who go up against your guns piles of ash.

GLORIA  
Then I’d say you’re right. Do you know specifically what  
you’re looking for? Pistols, rifles, plasma casters? 

LITTLE BEARD  
Damn, damn, damn!

Cass smiles darkly to herself, in a close-up.

CASS  
Enough to get the job done and then some.

Cass is shot twice in the chest by a heavy pistol, sending her falling into the trench, her hat flying off, leaving her gasping for air. Courier is shocked at this. Little Beard and Big Beard are speechless. Gloria panics, retreating behind Jean, who brings up his plasma caster. LEGIONARY ASSASSIN, a patchwork of first aid bandaging, the remains of a worn Legion uniform, and old wounds, stands with a limp, holds a smoking 10mm pistol. He stands in front of a squad consisting of a PRIME DECANUS, with a bolt-action rifle, and three PRIME LEGIONARIES, each holding a lever action repeater. 

LEGIONARY ASSASSIN  
None escape the glorious Caesar’s justice, Rose of Sharon Cassidy!

PRIME DECANUS  
Pity the Courier is nowhere in sight.

Gloria regains her composure, stepping forward from behind Jean.

GLORIA  
Rose of Sharon Cassidy? She was Cass?!

LEGIONARY ASSASSIN  
Yes, and after crawling out of what would’ve been my grave, I joined a new team  
to track her down. Now she lies dead in a trench and we must hunt for her friend.

GLORIA  
That Courier. I’d heard he took out a town full of you.

In the trench, Cass pulls open a portion of her shirt to reveal a bulletproof vest, seeing that it blocked both bullets. Above her, Prime Decanus crosses his arms, rifle slung over his back.

PRIME DECANUS  
Quiet your tongue, profligate wench, or I will slice it from your   
mouth. Men, search the area. It’s unlikely she acted alone.

JEAN  
Wait just a goddamn minute. You just broke two of my rules: you insulted my   
sister, and you stole my kill. You’re lucky you haven’t melted yet. Walk away.

Legionary Assassin points at Jean, yelling passionately at him.

LEGIONARY ASSASSIN  
Me walk away? After I rose from the dead to bring justice to these  
profligates and you march here with these wretches their extravagant  
weapons and armor only a pack of cowards would don. You do not know my-

Jean blasts his head clean off in an explosion of blood and neon green plasma, spraying the other Legion soldiers. Gloria runs towards the barn for cover. The Van Graff Soldiers draw down on the Legion.

JEAN  
Fuck, I needed that. 

GLORIA  
Damn it!

JEAN  
Take ‘em, boys!

Cass, calls to the Beards, from below the trench. The Legion turns to hear her, weapons drawn, surprised she’s alive.

CASS  
BEARDS, DO IT NOW!

PRIME LEGIONARY  
She lives?!

Big Beard and Little Beard, covering their ears, in the far corner of their trench, activate the C4. From in front of the Van Graffs, we see the explosives go off. The three backmost Van Graff Soldiers die in the blast. Two more Van Graff Soldiers are injured. Jean shields Gloria from the blast. Gloria moves from behind Jean to seek cover in the barn, as the other Van Graffs recover from the force of the blast. Cass pulls the pin out of the irregularly timed frag grenade. She lobs it at a Prime Legionnaire who spotted her. The Prime Legionnaire picks up the grenade to lob it back.

PRIME LEGIONNAIRE  
Heretical whore can’t count to three!

It explodes in his hand, taking off the upper left portion of him, sending what’s left of him flying. Courier takes aim at the Van Graffs, the Legion in the frame in more disarray at the moment. Courier fires two shots. One of the two Van Graff soldiers to the right of Jean is shot twice in the upper right side of his back, with one of the bullets piercing through the gap between his armor plates, killing him. Jean looks up to see Courier, enraged. Courier shoots Jean in the upper chest, and the bullet is blocked by the armor. Jean angles his plasma caster at hole in the wall that Courier shoots out of and fires four shots. Courier grabs his carbine and jumps out the window.

COURIER  
Shit!

The plasma blasts hit the top floor of the barn, each hit causing an explosion. Courier is rocked midair by the blast, dropping his carbine. Courier lands after being launched a story into a pained pose on the ground. His carbine is long gone, and there’s a pair of black boots in front of him. Jean looks down angrily, at Courier, the plasma caster lighting up to fire. Prime Decanus shoots him through the pack and Jean’s arm plate. Jean turns, blasting a large hole through the Prime Decanus’ torso. Courier gets up, drawing his irregularly timed frag grenade. He throws it at Jean, who swears in anger, bracing himself.

JEAN  
Oh damn!

It doesn’t explode, to both of their surprise. Jean has Courier in his sights, and there’s no hope of Courier outrunning this or drawing his revolver in time. 

COURIER  
Oh damn!

Big Beard prepares his sledgehammer to charge up the trench. Little Beard cocks his submachine gun. 

BIG BEARD  
Ready, my friend?

LITTLE BEARD  
Hell no.

BIG BEARD  
Not your call to make. For honor! For glory!

BIG BEARD and LITTLE BEARD  
FOR THE BEARDS!

Big Beard charges up the trench, finding a Prime Legionnaire charging a Van Graff Soldier with a machete. Little Beard rises up from the trench. Big Beard smacks the Van Graff Soldier, whose neck audibly snaps, and Prime Legionnaire, swinging in a wide arc. Little Beard opens fire in the direction of the Legion. Prime Legionnaire stumbles back, with a concussion. A plasma shot fired from off-panel hits Big Beard in the upper chest, his face covered by the blast and smoke.

BIG BEARD  
AAUUUGH!

Little Beard is shot in the shoulder, wincing, and falling back into the trench. Cass lays in her trench. She rolls over, eyeing Mick’s assault carbine, which Courier had stolen and she’d planted for her use in the trench. She cocks it, smirking and coursing with adrenaline. Cass gets to her knees, firing at the lot of surviving enemy combatants. Cass rises taller, firing again on fully automatic. The two surviving Prime Legionnaires are hit multiple times, quickly dying, as is one of the Van Graff Soldiers. The final Van Graff Soldier raises his rifle. Dust stirs as she misses several shots in spraying the area. Jean, shot several times in his plasma cutter pack, which begins to smoke, and Courier dive to the ground, as Cass keeps firing as the final Van Graff Soldier is shot to death like the others. The bullets have kicked up a large storm of dust. Gloria takes cover within the doorway of the barn. Cass lowers the assault carbine, releasing the magazine to reload. Gloria steps out of cover to return fire from her plasma pistol. One of Gloria’s shots misses altogether, but the second comes dangerously close to Cass, who dodges it, reaching into her jacket interior. Cass pulls out her hatchet and throws it. The hatchet hits Gloria in the lower torso. Gloria stumbles back in disbelief, her left hand feeling her wound. She weakly raises her pistol, cringing from the pain. Jean gets up, shrugging off the broken plasma cutter, and getting his bearings. He sees Gloria with the hatchet sticking out of her and Cass running towards her.

JEAN  
Gloria!

Jean starts running to help her, when a bullet kneecaps him. He turns to see Courier fanning the hammer of his revolver like a western gunslinger. Jean yells, grappling Courier, getting shot by him again, this time in the gut, which is half stopped by the armor. Cass leaps, grabbing Gloria’s head and begins to bring it with frightening momentum to the ground. The revolver flies out of Courier’s hand, as Jean punches him in the gut. Courier gives a pained swing, which Jean easily dodges. Courier’s sleeve draws back, revealing the concealed hilt of Jamison’s switchblade. Jean swings at Courier, who ducks and stumbles back, triggering the switchblade. Courier swings, catching Jean off guard, putting a gash in the side of Jean’s neck. Jean grasps his throat with his left hand, picking up Courier with his opposite hand. Jean throws Courier several yards, Courier dropping his switchblade in the process. Jean moves towards Courier and consequently the irregularly timed grenade. Courier tries and fails to get to his knees, as Jean continues walking towards him, the grenade ticks. They both notice this, but aren’t able to react in time. The grenade explodes closer to Jean than Courier, but not close enough for a kill. Courier is thrown back, his injuries again coursing with pain. Jean manages to stand his ground, fairly close to Cass and Gloria in the barn. His face and arms are bloodied and the front of his armor is shredded. Cass slams Gloria’s head to the ground, Gloria gagging in pain. Gloria looks up to Cass, eyes full of fear. 

GLORIA  
Don’t do this, Cass! You’re not like me!

Cass tears the hatchet from Gloria’s gut, as Gloria cringes.

CASS  
You’re right.

Cass raises the hatchet above her head, full of rage.

CASS  
When I set out to kill someone, the fucker deserves it!

GLORIA  
No, no, no, NO!

Jean picks up a laser rifle from one of his fallen soldiers. An enraged Cass brings down the hatchet on an off-panel Gloria, with an accordingly gruesome sound and blood splatter.

CASS  
And I goddamn see it THROUGH!

Jean hears the sound of this and turns, afraid of what he knows just happened.

JEAN  
G-Gloria?

Jean sees Cass, who stands over Gloria’s body, hatchet buried in its head, victorious, unapologetic and confident. Courier calls to Cass, alerting her in time.

COURIER  
CASS!

Jean swings up the laser rifle to aim, and Cass draws her sawed-off shotgun strapped to her leg from under her dress.

JEAN  
YOU’RE NOTHING BUT GODDAMN DUST!

Cass fires both barrels at once. Jean is shot, this time cleanly through the armor, leaving a soccer ball sized hole in his chest. His eyes widen in surprise and agony. He doubles over on his side, still gripping the laser rifle, and dies. Courier struggles to his feet. Cass walks over to him, putting away her sawed-off. Cass extends a hand to Courier. Courier accepts it, wincing as he’s in basically overall pain, but both are glad that they won. Courier walks around, restocking his various weapons, and Cass her assault carbine, when they look at each other. 

CASS  
Have you seen if the Beards survived?

LITTLE BEARD  
Yeah... just scraped by, boss.

BIG BEARD  
I might as well not have, milady! I don’t think I can go on.

Cass and Courier look down at the trench.

CASS  
My god...

Big Beard’s namesake has been scorched off by plasma, ending just before his face, which is covered in dust and beard debris. Little Beard’s shoulder is bandaged up, and he looks up to Courier and Cass.

CASS  
Do you know how infinitely lucky you are that that worked?

BIG BEARD  
It’s over for me...

LITTLE BEARD  
Th-then this would mean...

Little Beard jumps to his feet, ecstatic. Big Beard follows him, mortified.

COURIER  
Little Beard?

LITTLE BEARD  
No... BIG BEARD!! AHAAHAAHAA!

COURIER  
Oh yeah, I guess so. Well, I suppose you’ll lead in a more level-headed direc-

LITTLE BEARD  
Alright, runt! Follow me to glory!

BIG BEARD  
Y-yes, sir.

Courier, injured, slumps his arm over Cass as they walk back to town.

COURIER  
You know what I need?

CASS  
Booze?

COURIER  
That and gauze.

Courier and Cass sit at the bar of the 188 trading post, a small trading post NCR backed merchants established. It’s located at the intersection of two dilapidated, but luckily functional roads, one on a bridge over the other. Cass and Courier drink at a bar near the top bridge. It’s maybe twelve feet wide and made of roughly welded together scrap metal. A BARTENDER in typical wasteland barter-wear stands at the counter, pouring Courier’s drink. Courier’s clothes are still a bit weathered from the fight, though it seems he’s regained his vitality, and his weapons, for that matter. Cass has changed back to her regular clothes, sawed-off in a hip holster, assault carbine on her back. Cass takes a drink. 

CASS  
I’m telling you, I could’ve done it.

COURIER  
And I’m calling bullshit. If that beard blocked a plasma   
shot, there’s no way you could’ve punched through it.

CASS  
Well, I obviously haven’t punched you yet, if you’re still thinking that.

Big beard, far away in the wasteland, rubs his chin, where his beard used to be, looking like a ghost of his former self.

COURIER  
Not like it matters now. It’s gone. One of the few remaining   
wonders of the world, on par with the Hoover Dam, and now it’s gone.

CASS  
It’d almost be sad if he weren’t such a jackass. Though it’s not  
like the other one was any better. Ran off before I could pay him.

The panel zooms slightly out to show Little Beard in the shot, smiling widely and gesturing dramatically with the sledgehammer which direction to travel in. Big Beard still hasn’t fully come to terms with his new subservient position. 

COURIER  
Well, well. Miss Cassidy had a heart.

CASS  
Oh, please. Goofy fucks as they might have been, we couldn’t have done this alone.

CASS  
Speaking of, hear anything on the radio about our other friends? 

Orphans with bats and tire irons overwhelm and knock out the Van Graff’s sentry, with more orphans running in and out of the Silver Rush carrying various expensive energy weapons.

COURIER  
As a matter of fact, no, though I did get a letter from a heavily armed orphan. The  
Silver Rush wasn’t much for security, what with some assassins drawing away most  
of the guards. Then some punk kids overran the place like the treasure trove it was.

Outside of his shop, in a crowd of Orphans and Ralph, Mick proudly tussles an Orphan’s hair, in a fatherly fashion.

COURIER  
Mick wasn’t too happy that some scoundrel stole his pride and   
joy, but the way I hear it, it taught him what really mattered:

Mick yells in merriment, firing what is essentially a laser-firing mini-gun at the sky. The Orphan next to him also yells, firing a heavily modified 1920s Tommy gun that fires lasers in place of bullets at the sky in a similar fashion. Ralph is in the background, rubbing his forehead in frustration. Other Orphans look on in wonder and excitement.

COURIER  
Gatling lasers.

CASS  
Troopers are going to have a fun time policing those guys.

CASS  
Any word out of the Outpost back west?

Jackson leans on a wall as a line of NCR Troopers moves in to get their service rifles and ammo. Two NCR Quartermasters hand out a rifle and ammo to the soldiers as they come by, but it’s easily visible that the supplies are far from enough to outfit every soldier.

COURIER  
Not really, but you’ve got to think about that massive supply line that   
was just cut for them. McLafferty was heartless, but she knew what she  
was doing. Could take years to find someone like that to take the reigns.

NCR Troopers, Caravan Guards, and Caravaneers rebuild the Crimson Caravan Company with what bricks and metal they can muster. It looks as if there were still hope for a future.

CASS  
I’d imagine the caravan’s rebuilding. The fiends can keep throwing everything  
they’ve got at them, but sooner or later, civilization’s going to stomp ‘em out.   
Besides, NCR’s good people. It takes more than a couple losses to keep ‘em down.

COURIER  
They’d better hope so.

Cass leans her elbows down on the counter. Courier takes a drink as he listens for an answer.

CASS  
But to address your question...

COURIER  
So, how about it?

CASS  
Don’t think don’t I appreciate the offer, but no.

Cass laughs of the situation, hand on her glass. Courier looks disappointed.

COURIER  
You’re sure? Two of us travelling together like   
we are, we’d be a force to be reckoned with.

CASS  
Fuck you; you’re not enough of one on your own?

Cass reflects on the past couple weeks and talks about her plans for the future, looking down at her glass with a hopeful smirk.

CASS  
I’m not going to forget all you’ve done for me, but there’s been a change. I’m  
not the same girl I was at the start of this. Now there’s some serious blood on   
my hands, and whether or not they deserved what happened, the Republic’s   
going to need some help cleaning up the mess. I think I need to figure this   
stuff out on my own, like if I’m just the hand of vengeance I’m pegged as, and   
if I’m going to find any of that peace I’ve been looking for since the Outpost.

Courier leans in the opposite direction of the counter.

COURIER  
I understand, Cass. Be careful out there.

Cass smiles, blushing half from the drink, half from what she’s about to do. Cass and Courier kiss. They break away, smiling and content.

CASS  
You too. 

Cass calls to him, half turned, already walking away. Courier tips his hat to her.

CASS  
And would you deliver something already? How  
the fuck can you still call yourself a courier?

COURIER  
Wishful thinking.

Courier turns back to the other side of the bar, surprised by the voice of a quirky, but energetic girl.

VERONICA  
You’re a Courier, huh?

COURIER  
In theory, yeah. 

VERONICA, a girl with short, black hair, rough green robes, and a matching rough, green hood, smiles cheerfully, playfully inching towards Courier. Courier is unable to frown at this.

VERONICA  
What do you mean? What do you deliver? Supplies? Money? Pain?

COURIER  
Nothing anywhere near that well defined.

VERONICA  
Well, I’d imagine there’s something motivating you.

COURIER  
Maybe, but for now, I just drift place to place, wandering the wastes. 

VERONICA  
Wandering the wastes, sightseeing... Sounds like a good time. 

COURIER  
And you?

Veronica plainly and pleasantly looks Courier in the eyes. Courier is concerned for her, but can already feel she’s going to be fine.

VERONICA  
Gathering supplies for my family. And are they ever a needy bunch. Hey, your   
friend left, and if you don’t want to wander alone, maybe I can come with you?

COURIER  
What about your family? Can you even hold your own out there?

Veronica puts her power fist forward, nearly decking Courier with a massive metal skeleton of a gauntlet designed to hit far harder than humanly possible.

VERONICA  
My family is... pretty well connected. They’ll be fine, and of course not.  
I’ve only got the power fist because I take handshaking very seriously.

COURIER  
Sarcasm. You’ll fit in fine, Miss...

One-shot of Veronica, who smiles warmly, but mysteriously. 

VERONICA  
Veronica. Veronica Santangelo. So, tell me, courier.  
Ever heard of the Brotherhood of Steel?


End file.
